Finding Our Way Back
by Bobbie23
Summary: 'There are tests, but there are also small mercies. Life tossed us up into the air, scattered us, and we all somehow found our way back. And we will do it again. And again. And again.' ― Alexandra Bracken, Through the Dark. WARNING - spoilers for Thor: Ragnorak


**Author Note – Spoilers for Thor: Ragnarok. Just indulging a few thoughts I had after seeing the film. Special thanks to my beta Black' Victor Cachat.**

 **Disclaimer – I don't own, just borrowing the characters for entertainment.**

Finding Our Way Back

' _There are tests, but there are also small mercies. Life tossed us up into the air, scattered us, and we all somehow found our way back. And we will do it again. And again. And_ _again.'_

― _Alexandra Bracken_ _,_ _Through the Dark_

Under the harsh sun Natasha makes her way through the sandy field in the middle of New Mexico, eyeing the recent arrivals carefully while appearing indifferent to them. She is the master of her mask, her facial features schooled not to let her guard down. She wanders further, searching the Asgardian faces for her former teammate. He's lost his long golden mane since she last saw him but he would still stand out in this mass. She expected Thor to be front and centre once they landed close to his original touchdown point in New Mexico.

Months ago, he wouldn't have gotten them all together in the same place for such a welcoming party. Stark was the only one of them present during his transmission, but Thor requested the presence of all of the Avengers, so Tony made the call and brokered the fastest deal he could with Secretary of State Ross about securing the safety and freedom of the Avengers who still refused to toe the Governments line with the Accords. Though the UN has been more lenient since Thanos turned out to be a legitimate threat; letting the Avengers slip away after they bailed the military out of situations they struggled to handle. Ross was the only one who seemed to be taking the UN's decision to heart, and holding a grudge.

Natasha didn't care about the aging Secretary of State, it was clear there were other officials involved in deciding their fate. Steve had wanted assurances before he risked any of them coming to the militaries' aid, and waited for Stark to get the promise from the UN.

Natasha moves through the horde. It's been a long time since she was surprised by what she sees in the world, yet the faces passing her will blend in easily in any crowd on Earth if they want to. Then there's the others, the ones who have no human attributes, who will find it tougher to fit in. IF they are allowed to integrate, that is. Ross has set up vetting areas, and it'll be weeks if not months to sort through the Asgardians. Till then they will be restricted to the nearest army base.

Given the current climate, opinion of people with powers and aliens is at an all-time low, and she has low expectations of how they will be received by the general population. She doubts many people will change their minds even if the Asgardians pledge allegiance with Earth against Thanos.

The mass of people in front of the space craft shift to let someone through, and Thor appears in front of her, beaming at his subjects and the surrounding scene. Natasha envies his lack of knowledge. She would never describe him as naïve, but there's something childlike about his bravado when he's so gung-ho about a situation as dire as the one facing them all. He would never willingly bring his people into a situation where they will most likely be detainees for the foreseeable future.

She hates letting him walk into this blind but Steve and Stark have a plan to warn him before he reaches Ross; her part of that plan is to give Thor the earpiece to connect the three men. Stark couldn't warn him during the initial transmission as the UN were watching him like a hawk and there's too many soldiers around to risk telling him now. They don't want to create panic or start a fight especially around others as strong as Thor.

The moment he sees her, his face splits into a wide grin as he crosses the distance between them quickly to sweep her up into a massive bear hug, lifting her off the ground easily while she freezes at the uncharacteristic behaviour. They're friends, but he knows better than to touch her without permission. "Natasha! I have missed you!"

"I missed you too Thor. Although if you don't put me down, it'll be the first time I've tested my batons on a God."

Her feet promptly touch the grass covered ground, and the God takes a step back from her, giving her a tight smile which gives way to a wide grin. Behind him Asgardians and other aliens file out of the aircraft he bought into Earth's atmosphere over an hour ago, asking NASA and Homeland Security for permission to land, explaining Asgard had been destroyed and they would like to be granted refuge till they find another home.

He's still grinning at her, as if he knows something she doesn't, and it's making her uncomfortable and paranoid. Her eyes dart around, quickly scanning the faces behind him for similar signs in case they are all under the influence of someone else—she spotted Loki earlier, except he was being secured – a demand the UN and the Avengers agreed upon - by a guy with a huge sword strapped to his back, yet she doesn't see any one acting strangely. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Because I need you to do something for me," Thor declares, his voice booming proudly. "I promised the Hulk I would bring you to him."

"The Hulk?" She questions, unsure if she heard him correctly.

It's weird to hear about him after so long. He's rarely mentioned by any of their friends anymore. If he is, it's usually Stark reminiscing fondly about his Science Bro. Usually when it's just him and her, either to tease or check on her or both, and never out of malice, even when he was pissed at her. It was difficult for both of them when the world had declared Bruce dead months after everyone exhausted every lead searching for him, unable to find any trace of him or the Quinjet. Natasha had her doubts, and hoped he was still out there, somewhere, finding the peace he desperately craves. Or at the very least takes pity on her one day to make contact to let her know he's still breathing. And give her the opportunity to apologise.

She gave up on those last two about two years ago, a year after he left.

"He's in there," Thor's low timbre breaks through her thoughts and his arm waves at the large hanger door with a steady stream of people still walking out of the alien craft. Natasha eyes the people passing again, some of them catch Thor's eyes and he speaks a few words to reassure them they are now safe. They certainly look like they've been through the ringer. The tall blonde man turns back to her, "I believe he is quite anxious to see you, never thought he would actually be afraid of anything or anyone."

Natasha's eyes cloud over, refusing to meet Thor's now consoling gaze.

"Doubtful," Natasha says trying to stay aloof. She never discussed her feelings for Bruce and the Hulk with anyone, not even after Fury's attempt to console her, and Thor will not be the exception because he's the one who brought them home. "He made his choice Thor."

"It wasn't Banner's," Thor points out with certainty.

"You don't know that," Natasha argues softly.

Thor squints at her, assessing and trying to figure out what to say next. She's not sure if wants to hear it. It's all happening too fast. Minutes ago, _he, they,_ were gone, and now they're here, mere metres away.

"When I first found the Hulk on Sakaar, I tried to perform the lullaby Lady Natasha, but I was unsuccessful," Thor finally explains. "Banner was trapped inside the Hulk for two years," Thor goes on, dropping his voice and showing some decorum. "He thought he was still on Sokovia."

She whips her head up. "How do you know that if you couldn't perform a lullaby?"

"The Hulk transformed for a short time while we were trying to leave the planet we reunited on," Thor looks a little uneasy, lowering his voice further. "I located the Quinjet and the message you were transmitting to the Hulk when he flew away after Sokovia started to play," he stops and looks at her sympathetically and she realises her eyes are rebelliously watering like they had back then. She looks away.

" _Hey, big guy. We did it, the job's finished. Now I need you to turn this bird around, okay? We can't track you in stealth mode, so help me out. I need you t..._ "

She blinks a couple of times and lifts her head to look at the God of Thunder. "I wasn't even performing a Lullaby, Thor," she says with a slight quiver.

"No but he heard your voice," he points out. "His first words were of you."

She looks down and takes a deep steadying breath. "He's in there," she nods doubtfully at the ship.

"Waiting for you. It's been nearly another Earth year since his last transformation."

She sighs in resignation. There are times when she hates her ability to adapt to the swift changes of a situation. Because as much as she would like to turn on her heel and _run_ , she can't. Bruce has been trapped inside of the Hulk for too long, and she knows that's his biggest fear. She's not going to leave him in there. Although there's something she needs to do first.

"I need to talk to the Big Guy."

"As you should, you have missed much of each other's lives. Though I feel I should warn you, he is stubborn now he has found his voice." The God of Thunder nods thoughtfully. "Conversing with the Hulk has caused me to miss Banner's wit," Thor admits blithely.

"I thought you'd be Team Hulk," Natasha counters with a tiny laugh at the change of subject.

"I did too, unfortunately talking to the Hulk is as challenging as fighting him." Thor looks over his shoulder at the door of the vessel, the last of his people exiting. "I feel I must say something in Banners' behalf before you see him."

"This isn't your place Thor," Natasha reminds him hastily. She doesn't really need to hear it from anyone but Bruce.

"Then let me tell you of an observation I made when trying to perform the Lullaby," Thor gently insists. "I don't believe the words or the actions are important. Something else brings him back. It wasn't what you said, Natasha, it was you." Natasha swallows the lump in her throat. "Banner comes back for you. I now believe his sun rises and sets on you."

Natasha blinks away her limp expression, desperately trying to regain some composure. She is hyper-aware of her reaction, more internal than she realises yet, feeling her micro features changing to give her away, but others would barely notice any change in her demeanour unless they were studying her closely. "You sweet talk Jane, like that?" She tries to deflect.

A slight blush creeps onto his face when Natasha realises her mistake, referring to his ex-girlfriend. Her nose twitches and she sends him an apologetic look to which he shrugs. She gives him a break and averts her eyes to the now empty doorway and finds them each some kind of escape from this awkward conversation. "I need to go…"

Her words spur him into action and Thor steps aside with a flourish of his arm as if presenting a gift. "And I must take my leave; I need to find Stark to discuss my security clearance; his passcodes are not nearly as accurate as he thinks they are."

"Before you go, take this," she lowers her voice as she passes him and brushes her hand against his to deliver the earpiece. Thor scrunches his brow at the pass but he resists the natural impulse to look down at the device she placed in his hand. It's up to Steve and Stark to explain the rest to him.

….

Without directions, Natasha walks along the long corridor toward the large hull of the ship. She clearly hears the tell-tale stomps of her green skinned hero up ahead. Her feet carry her quicker, and soon she sees the Hulk pacing the control room. His head shakes from side to side and he mutters something she can't quite make out.

Natasha pauses in the doorway to just watch him for a moment, huffing and puffing. With everything which is going on – Thanos, Ross – it's a relief to see him. Her heart beat quickens as it always does in his presence. She's missed him.

She is about to step forward and announce her presence when another voice speaks from behind a pillar. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were scared Big Guy," the female voice drawls casually as the woman steps out for Natasha to get a good look at her.

Beautiful, dressed in white, with long dark locks pulled up high on her head and behaving way too familiar with the Hulk for Natasha's liking.

Natasha decides she hates the foreign stab of jealousy she feels. The stab morphs into indecision, and she hesitates in the doorway. All the hopes she had for this reunion are not enough to hold her back from the possible heartache she may endure by facing the overly friendly woman and the _Big Guy_. Natasha has no right to presume anything.

She'll bring Bruce back because it's the right thing to do. Then, she'll figure it out.

Seconds later she's crossing the threshold, holding her head high, a confident sway to her hips, her heels clicking on the floor.

The woman with white tattoos on her face turns her head as soon as she enters, and the Hulk stops to look at her. His stare sparking that heady reaction she always feels when she's in his presence.

"Tasha," her name on his lips sends a flood of satisfaction through her as she keeps a steady stride. Bruce prefers shortening her name to 'Nat' while the Hulk uses 'Tasha', she doesn't have a preference herself, they both sound like a claim – the same way she uses 'Doc' and 'Big Guy' for them. And with the way the other woman is appraising her, Natasha feels the need to make her own claim.

"Hey Big Guy," she emphasises with more pleasantness and ease than she's feeling. Her eyes are on him to see how he reacts, his back straightening and the slight puffing out of his chest, ready to heed to her. As she passes the other woman, Natasha catches the slight narrowing of her rival's eyes then looks at the Hulk's reaction herself before she seemingly resigns herself to Natasha's stake and ducking out of the room. Easier to chase her off than Natasha thought, but as soon as the other woman is gone, the former assassin releases the breath she'd been holding. They can talk about this later. "You don't write, you don't call…" Natasha continues stepping toward him.

"It's almost like you don't want to be here," she assesses sadly.

"Earth hate Hulk," he says slumping down on the platform behind him as if were a chair.

"Not all of us," Natasha retorts. "Not me." She barely waits for that to settle before she points out, "You haven't exactly been sharing nicely with Banner. Two years Big Guy?" He grumbles and Natasha marvels how he can do that by just breathing. His voice, deep and gruff, is more of a surprise. She's always known he had the ability to talk, the footage of him slapping Loki around was evidence enough, but he rarely used his voice before and she figures he developed it to survive wherever he has been for the last few years. She's not going to discourage him by commenting on it.

"Safer for Banner," he argues.

"You've got a point, I'll give you that," She concedes reluctantly. Bruce would freak out on another planet, drawing more attention to himself. Once his disorientation wore off, Natasha knows he'd embrace exploring an alien world – especially if there was technology which Earth didn't have. "He'd freak out. That wouldn't have happened if you hadn't flown away."

"Safer for Tasha," he argues stoically.

Natasha sighs. Bruce had the same argument when he tried to dissuade her from leaving with him. They're more in tune with each other than they'll ever admit.

"Shouldn't _I_ be included in that decision?" She questions.

The Hulk looks at the floor. At least he has some decorum to look ashamed though Natasha knows he probably has some justification. Not that his justifications count; her life is already full of danger and risks—all the things Bruce wants to be away from.

"Tasha hurt."

It takes her a second to realise he's not talking about right now, but the rain of bullets when they were in the playground before he ripped Ultron apart. "Yeah, except they didn't even break my skin. I recovered Big Guy, and then you hurt me in a different way. You could've just told me you didn't want me tagging along."

"Hulk trying to be better for Tasha," the Hulk pauses. "You want Banner. Always trying to change Hulk to Banner."

At first, Natasha thinks he's talking about that moment in the playground but then she realises he's talking about the lullaby in general and how she continually approaches him when the fight is finished to bring Bruce back. She doesn't give him the same freedom as Bruce, she is responsible for neutralising him when the world has no use for him. And _he_ wanted to have more control for _her._

"I want you both," Natasha counters. "Just remember, I'm the one who pushed him into a pit to get him to transform. I'm fine with the package deal, you two are the ones who have the issues with it."

"Earth hate Hulk," he reminds her softly.

She can't disagree. Ross still holds a grudge for the accident that had created Hulk, and a lot of people still hold onto the belief he had intentionally levelled Johannesburg, despite Wanda's public admission of guilt. Not just that, his association with the Avengers in the current political climate, is now more damaging to him, rather than the other way around.

"Earth doesn't know how to appreciate what you've done for them, and tend to focus on your penchant for smashing; they're put off by that, you know." He scowls. She steps into his personal space, so close she can feel the heat radiating off of him. Her fingers touch his chest and she tilts her head to make him look her in the eye, his face softening in wonder. His large fingers rest on her back. "Thing is, I'm not. I think you and Bruce misunderstand exactly why I care about you. I think you think I want you to be a hero, to fight, to do this for me, but, truthfully, it wouldn't have mattered if Bruce decided to keep you out of it. I adore you for who you are, not your potential Big Guy, because even though I know what you're capable of I also respect that this is not the life he wants and he was only doing it so we'd all have a chance of something beyond violence and anger."

He rears back to arch an eyebrow at her.

"Chucking him into a crater was a one-time occurrence, it won't happen again," she amends. From here on out she will abide Bruce's wishes. It'll be his choice whether to change or not, she'll support his decision. She idly wonders if his time away has changed his perspective especially if the Hulk has been in control for the time he's been away. Heck, she doesn't know if the lullaby will still work – no matter what Thor says.

A finger trails her spine. "I won't break Big Guy. You and Bruce are more afraid of hurting me than I am."

"Hulk sorry Tasha."

"Me too, Big Guy," her arms wind around his neck impulsively. Giving in to the urge she's felt since Thor first told her he was back. She's missed him. Both of them. Whatever limbo they're in, that doesn't change that fact. Her face burrows into the green crook of his neck. His strong arms hold her tightly, tenderly. She wishes they could stay like this, wishes they don't have to face the masses. "I won't let any of them hurt either of you."

The reaction is instantaneous as he begins to shrink while holding her in his arms. His body doesn't flinch or flail like usual, it's smooth and fluid as Bruce comes back to her. After a few minutes his arms tighten around her, hanging on as his face finds the crook of her neck and inhales deeply. "Nat," he breathes in way only he can.

Then she breathes herself. Her hands begin to wander, examining him to make sure he's real and not some dream she's had a thousand times since he's been gone. Her fingers lightly caressing pink muscle before travelling over his shoulders, one hand burying in his hair, her other stroking the other side of his neck as he begins his own exploration. Loosening his hold, his fingertips graze her back, touching her waist before moving up as he rears back a tad to finally look in to her eyes with his watery brown ones. Her eyes flutter but he cups her face, tipping her chin to look at him. The moment lingers and the anticipation builds, she thinks he's about to kiss her except he stops himself when he feels the tension in her. "The last thing I remember is you."

"Three years ago," she informs him with a broken smile. Her hand snakes between them and taps his chest over his heart. "Three years Bruce," she repeats, her anguish coming through.

"Lost another year," he closes his eyes in frustration. His forehead rests on hers.

"It isn't your fault," she knows it won't pacify him. It doesn't relieve the pressure bubbling up from the pit of her stomach. Or the three years of doubt with no word from him. Logically, she knows it wouldn't have been possible for him to send him word from whatever planet he ended up on but she found that out less than thirty minutes ago and she's having trouble comprehending it; the damage has already been done.

"For the last three years you thought I abandoned you," his voice is rough. "That is the last thing I wanted."

"It isn't your fault," Natasha repeats. She wants to shake him off but her rebellious body finds the feel of him is comforting. Like she always has.

"Really?" He questions looking into her eyes, past her defences.

She pushes back, his hands dropping from her. Her internal battle between what she knows and what she feels is like a blow to the stomach.

"It hurt," she relents. It's a small admission compared to the festering pain she felt when he disappeared, one she couldn't hide from anyone. "I guess we really missed our window, huh."

He squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw setting. "I was-."

"Don't," she tells him. "Thor gave me the basics of what happened on Sakaar."

He eyes her for beat before nodding. His gaze drops down to his way-too-big trousers covering his extremities, he curses under his breath at the lack of clothing choices, wishing for something more to face her in. He spies a pocket on the well-worn, stretched pants and pats it to find it empty. He could've sworn he put Tony's glasses in there but it was a long shot anyway.

A button pops and seconds later, Natasha's hand moves into his peripheral vision holding his glasses.

His _spare_ glasses.

He snaps up to meet her eyes, her wide, open eyes. Exposed and raw. "In case there was chance you ever came back," she says with an equally raw voice.

"Nat," he breathes out her name apologetically, reverently. He doesn't know what he ever did to deserve her. He hesitantly takes them from her tight grip, his fingers brushing hers inching to grasp her hand. "Nat," he sighs again.

"Let's not," she says stepping back from him. "You just woke up after losing the best part of three years, you've got a lot to catch up on. I'll get someone to bring you some clothes," Natasha tells him and turns her back on him to talk into her comm.

He doesn't listen to her conversation; the hushed tones blend into the background noise of alien craft he's on. He takes the few minutes to make a note of the changes in her. The blonde hair stands out the most, the upgraded suit second. He sees past all of it, the slant of her shoulders, the sag in her body, the exhaustion hidden in her expression. It may have been a long time for her, but he can still read her.

"Stark's on his way," Natasha declares spinning to face him. That makes Bruce brighten, wondering how his friend has fared since he left. Aside from Natasha, Tony helps him relax. Bruce is brought out of his thoughts as he realises Natasha is back peddling, her feet inching toward the exit.

"Don't go," he pleads, his own feet moving to follow her. "Please, I know it's selfish and probably the last thing you want but the last time I woke up, I was told that I lost you. That seems like yesterday to me and I never thought..."

"I know what you mean," she nods. She had spent days, hell, months following his disappearance wishing he would resurface. Natasha swallows thickly. Life is cruel and while she's had time to process the loss and carried the pain and regret, she still needs this as much as him.

Cinching the trousers around him, Bruce moves to the large window looking out toward the military tents set up to process the refugees. She can see the foreboding flutter across his face. He can sense the change.

"This all seems horrible," Bruce says looking outside at the heavily armoured military wandering amongst the Asgardians. "What happened? After Sokovia?"

"Stark and Clint retired, Thor left. And the Avengers moved the new recruits out of the city," she lets the words run out of her mouth easily, quickly so she can't betray her indifference.

"Voluntarily?" He wonders.

She sighs.

Sokovia changed things.

There were more protestors than supporters on the streets of New York, they didn't feel safe with the Avengers as neighbours. They thought any enemy coming for them could just as easily target the citizens in retaliation. The city didn't feel safe with them there.

Tony retired, yet provided them with a brand-new facility to carry on their cause. He already had the wheels in motion before Sokovia, developing an old warehouse upstate. The idea stemmed from training with Bruce and the Hulk. There wasn't enough space in the Tower to test the limits of his capabilities. It wasn't practical to continue in the city; too many civilians in close quarters, Bruce wouldn't risk it. And after he took off, their team grew and they needed space to work with the new members as they gained control of their gifts.

"It was mutual," she tells him and he tilts his head knowingly. "Kind of hard to do your job when everyone hates you for it," she comments softly, and he looks at her over his shoulder, inquisitive and empathic.

She hates them both for it.

Natasha looks around the massive interior for something to distract her. She spies Thor's cape draped across the chair at the head of the room. Her face softens. "So, Thor tried a Lullaby?"

"What?" He turns around and follows her gaze. He huffs and scratches the back of his head, smiling fondly. "Uh yeah, a couple of times." His nose wrinkles as he gathers more momentum. "Then there were times when he kept whispering the words and massaging my shoulders to keep me calm," he visibly shudders.

"When you weren't the Hulk?" Natasha checks and allows her lips to curve.

"Yeah," Bruce confirms. "I was freaking out because I was on an alien planet and he thought he was helping but it was kinda weird and freaked me out more." He looks at her longingly with that squeamish expression she can't resist, "Please don't let him do it again."

"I'll do my best," Natasha promises with a coy smile. "I'm really glad you're home Bruce," she breathes out, unable to stop herself.

Bruce relaxes and before he can reciprocate with his own admission he's cut off.

"Welcome home Buddy!" Tony calls as he waltzes into the big room. He pauses when he sees his friends with several feet between them. "Is it a 'welcome' home?" He asks Natasha more than Bruce, using his fingers to make air quotes.

Natasha rolls her eyes at him. "Interrupted," she deadpans. Their moment truly shattered she offers Bruce a quick conciliatory look and, wanting to give them and herself some time, ducks out of the ship without another word.

"I see she's as forthcoming as always," Tony glances at her retreating form before opening his arms to his friend. Bruce reciprocates the hug, smiling regardless when Tony speaks again. "You lead the most interesting life."

"Not exactly the life I want," Bruce replies and pulls away to take the satchel from him. "How are you?"

"Been better, especially when someone is using me as a glorified errand boy," Tony tells Bruce though he raises his voice so Natasha can hear it as she walks away.

Bruce examines the bag carefully before opening it to find two sets of clothes, only one of which he will fit into. It's a sign Bruce would never have expected yet it touches him deep in his heart. He doesn't deserve the kindness Natasha has shown him today. He sets the smaller, closer fit sweats to one side as he finishes separating the larger ones.

"She always had hope," Tony watches him carefully refold Natasha's clothes, before putting them back in the bag.

"She thought I left her," Bruce bitterly says. His heart heavy with the understanding. He turns his back on Tony and lets the stretched pants drop to the floor.

"She thought you left because of her," Tony corrects. "Just for the record, I would've pushed you too."

"Now I know the world is in a dire state; you agree with Natasha," Bruce admits and pulls on the tee shirt. He ignores the slight irk he feels at Tony's admission. While Bruce hates the idea of forced transformations, he doesn't want to relinquish that control to anyone, he sometimes wishes he has inclination to push himself. Right now, he's more concerned with being himself again.

"Actually, she agreed with me first," Tony quips, before his face goes slack. "You're right, it's the end of the world." Bruce chuckles as he slides his arms into the hoodie. "Are you ready to come home?"

"Do I have a choice?" Bruce sighs. He's relieved to see his friends but his feelings about being on Earth are decidedly mixed so he defers back to Tony, "Natasha said you retired."

"For a bit, but I guess I got dragged back in by your old pal Ross," Tony scoffs. Bruce winces at the mention of his ex-girlfriend's father and knows there's more to it than Tony's saying. Sometimes Tony has a tendency to gloss over the details. Bruce won't prod for information, he'll wait till after he's been debriefed to catch up on what's he's missed while on Sakaar.

"Natasha had to play referee for me and Rogers for a while. Doesn't matter now anyway, not with what's coming."

Bruce can't help himself, "What's coming?"

…..

Later that night, Bruce shifts on the small sofa to find a comfortable position. His thin blanket moves and rucks up over his knees as he curls up to try to fit his body onto the tiny cushions. He fluffs his pillow under his neck before settling back down, rubbing his eyes briefly and double checking his glasses are still on the coffee table within arms-reach from his bed for the night, or foreseeable future as the situation will most likely call for it. He's slept in worse places.

He reclines with a sigh, the light from the hall catches his gaze. Rather than be bothered by the unnatural glare, he finds it reassuring in the underground compound somewhere in the middle of Africa. Plus, he doesn't have the energy to get up to close the door. Having been debriefed and loaded onto a jet in a matter of hours, on the back of an extended transformation, it's nice to have some quiet time to himself. He's actually quite grateful for the meagre conditions he's found himself in.

He's back on Earth, something he thought was a pipe dream the last time he was conscious. No one has called for his arrest, not much of a surprise considering the impending invasion as they need him _and_ the Hulk, and he'll see how that pans out— if they survive whatever this Thanos guy is about to rain down on them. He's with people he knows and cares for, he even trusts some of them; an even bigger surprise to him that they've accepted him back so readily after his absence.

After he was led out of the Asgardian's vessel by Tony, he was greeted by Steve and Barton – both of them looking a little dumbfounded as they glanced between him and the ship before the realisation dawned – and they gave him their version of what Tony had already told him. Amongst the crowd of aliens, he saw others, Steve's friend Sam, Vision, and Wanda— the young woman who made him want to flee, though he's not as homicidally angry with her as he was before— all guiding the arriving refugees.

He puts his reaction down to being back on Earth, his home. Homes are places of warmth, familiarity, and love; Bruce hasn't experienced much of any of those but he cherishes the fleeting moments he has felt them. The simple pull of home which goes beyond an attachment to a place or country but encompasses the people who shared his life there. He's not sure what to expect, or how the government or the masses will greet him. He should be apprehensive. Except, he's not.

He knows how they've treated him in the past, and he would still rather have that familiar fate than be imprisoned on some alien planet which he didn't understand. This was simpler, predictable, easier for him to accept in a way even if it may turn out exactly the same.

He had walked through the throng of people, eyeing the vast terrain surrounding the military base they were directed to land near. Bruce had released a quiet sigh. The tension was palpable in the military personnel ordered to help the Asgardians.

Time hasn't treated the Earth or its' occupants well, according to his friends. The planet is united, now more than ever, but it's forced and based upon distrust of aliens and people with powers. Bruce is certain Thor's assurances will sway a lot of people, just as he also knows it won't be enough, and that it wouldn't take much for people to start turning on one another, allies or not. Chaos and panic can do that to people.

It's these thoughts which bring him back to Natasha.

They don't have the luxury of time. Nor does he need it. He made up his mind of what he wants to happen with her if he got the chance to see her again. He wants her to know exactly what he feels, wants to be the one making declarations and risking rejection. He needs to make the sacrifice.

Nothing has changed for him; he still feels as though he is coming back to her and they are going to run away at any moment.

She is the only thing holding him back from knocking on her door.

Three years is a long time. She's probably realised he's a lost cause by now.

He shouldn't presume she would wait for him. The go-bag she keeps preparing for him and keeping hold of his glasses mean more to him than he will ever be able to put into words. He's never been eloquent. Not that she expects that, she kind of likes that he isn't.

He hears a door click open down the hall and though he knows someone has slipped out of their room, he can't hear them walk along the tiled corridor. Despite being too wired to sleep, Bruce closes his eyes anyway. Their shadow fills the door as they pass through and immediately head for the communal kitchen in the open plan living area. Bruce breathes in discreetly as they step too close to the couch and picks up on the recognisable floral notes of their shampoo or soap.

"Would you like some tea?" Natasha asks without preamble as she opens a cupboard.

"Thanks," Bruce says giving up on the guise of being a sleep. He doesn't need to ask how she saw through the ruse.

He sits up on the seat, letting the blanket fall to his waist as he runs his fingers through his short cropped yet still unruly curls in an attempt to not appear completely dishevelled in front of Natasha. He figures it's for naught, she's seen him look worse and wearing a lot less than a tee shirt and boxers. He turns sideways on the couch to watch her make their drinks and he's surprised to see her pop a tea bag in her cup too, adding a touch of honey to his before pouring in the hot water. It only takes her a few minutes yet he wishes he has more time to watch her graceful movements.

She lets him watch her without comment, and only directs a small smirk which screams 'gotcha' at him when she turns to carry their cups to him. He returns it bashfully as she approaches, and she looks between the couch and the coffee table then unceremoniously chooses to perch on the table, just centimetres from his glasses. She hands him his cup without a word while sipping her own, her green eyes meet his and he stares at the bright green flecks glittering in the light cast from the hall. She holds his searching gaze intently, not reacting even when she lowers her cup and cradles it in both hands.

Bruce places his cup next to her, beside his glasses. His action bringing him closer to the edge of his cushion, closer to her, and he doesn't correct his position once he's finished. He's caught by a sudden bout of hesitation over his promises to himself, thinking any hope he has is foolish especially after the abruptness of his leaving and everything she may have thought after.

"What?" Comes her quiet question to his thoughtful look.

"You're blonde," is the first thing he states as he second guesses his ideas and potential proclamations. "I noticed earlier but I was still disorientated."

"Liar," she states in response with a soft look. Of course, she knows it's lie. She holds the cup in one hand and tucks an errant lock of the blonde tresses behind her ear with the other then shrugs when he looks at her in silent askance to expand on her new look. "I needed to change my appearance -quickly- and brunette was too similar to red."

"You had to run," Bruce breathes out in realisation, his temper flaring at not being here for her or knowing the details. But from the lack of particulars, he knows instinctively the story behind her statement will be near on impossible to get out of her.

"For a while," she confirms. Her eyes avert to the couch and the blanket covering his lap. "What are you doing out here? On the sofa?"

"I missed room assignment," Bruce says warmly. "Everywhere is full." A beat. "It's bad."

"Yeah but we're together," she reminds him with a grim smile, her features softened by the shadows. "It's more than most people have."

Bruce pauses at her frankness and the ache behind her words cuts through him. For the first time, he can feel the three years between them. Instead of saying anything he takes the cup from her and puts it on the table next to his then tentatively returns his hand to touch hers. His fingers skim her index finger, opening her hand while waiting for her to move out of his reach. She doesn't. Feeling braver, he gently grasps her fingers and turns her hand so her palm and wrist face upward. He feels rather than hears her quiet sigh. His eyes flick to hers to find a small inquisitive smile playing on her lips.

He ducks his head a tad without breaking eye contact. His fingers trace her inner wrist lightly with confident movements, her pulse quickening under his touch as she lets him perform a Lullaby on her. A content murmur escapes her lips and her eyes darken, her pupils dilate a fraction.

Her lids flutter as his thumb runs over her racing pulse. Her lips part and her tongue darts across her lower lip, moistening it. Bruce gulps.

"You don't have to sleep out here," Natasha informs him with a rasp.

Bruce tilts his head to the side. Steve wouldn't have given him the blanket and a pillow for the couch if an alternative was available. The man was fine with Bruce staying and had shown no resentment toward him. Surely, he wouldn't have invited Bruce to stay if he were holding a grudge on Natasha's behalf. "There's no other room—"

"There's mine," Natasha proposes lightly. His thumb pauses. She gives him a pointed look. "We've shared before."

He thinks of the night they spent at the Barton's when he was too rattled to appreciate being close to her for a few dark hours. Neither of them slept or talked as they huddled together under blankets, yet he listened to her breathing and felt his despair ebb, not quite believing she wouldn't leave him. He would be forever grateful for her presence, he didn't want to be alone despite his claims to the contrary.

Several times he wanted to reach out to her in the dark to tell her as much only he couldn't bring himself to close the distance. Once the sun rose, he felt the eagerness in the pit of his stomach at the prospect of not spending his life alone. There was too much nervous energy, too much going on, to say anything the following morning as they prepared to separate to go about their own parts of the mission but he fully intended to tell her once they were reunited and had time to talk properly.

"It'll complicate things Natasha."

"Or it'll simplify them. I could've made it really simple earlier by asking you to share a shower with me," she counters. "Will sharing a bed with me change the way you feel?"

"No," he breathes out. His heartbeat quickens at the prospect. "We should talk first though."

"Will talking change the way you feel?" She rewords the question and his heartbeat kicks up another notch.

"No," he breathes out. His fingers seek her wrist once more and she lets him touch her, finding comfort in the gesture. Talking won't change anything for him.

"It won't for me either," she confesses.

"What changed your mind? Earlier, you wanted some time," Bruce glances down at their joined hands.

"Thor said something on your behalf, something about the Lullaby," Natasha explains. "You should probably thank him at some point."

"I will," Bruce replies earnestly and it takes some effort not to ask what their friend said. Thor means well and it were anything bad, Natasha wouldn't be seeking him out in the middle of the night. "But I have a few words of my own."

Natasha tilts her head inquisitively. The teasing gleam of her gaze is almost his undoing but he doesn't want to chicken out now. "First off, I'm clueless."

One eyebrow rises and he can her voice in his head _'Really?'_

"Shocker, I know," he smiles self-depreciatively. "You blindside me and I want to say it was only a couple of times but you do it all the time, ever since we met," he says with genuine wonder. Her smile softens. "At the party, at Bartons' place, I didn't really have time to process what you were really trying to say because I was too broken up to appreciate it."

He takes a deep, steadying breath. "You centre me. When I'm him, I'm trapped in this green haze and nothing can reach me except your voice. So, when this is all over, if running's the plan, as far you want," he repeats her words from their night at the farm to signify what she means to him.

"Thor used prettier words," Natasha deflects deftly, the vulnerable look belying her joke. "I'm not asking for any promises Bruce, it's more than either one of us can give. We can decide whether to run or not when the time comes. I just want to take one day at a time because that's all we have and if it's all we get I don't want to waste it denying how I feel about you.

"Part of me wanted to forget about you," she admits. "I didn't want to because it felt nice to feel something which is real and chaste and nothing like I have ever experienced before. Part of me wanted nothing more than to track you down and figure out what I was missing out on, now I know I would never have found you even if I tried."

"I'm so sorry," Bruce breathes out.

"I'm sorry for pushing you," she replies.

"I understand why Natasha, at the time I didn't agree with it. I I really wanted to run with you," he confesses almost reverently. "I don't know why the Other Guy left."

"He sort of explained it to me. He said he wanted to be better, I guess he wanted more control over his basic urges, be less of a danger. I think he was trying to protect both of us." She tilts her head a fraction.

"It's why he stayed away from the Quinjet, stopped me from transforming. He knew I'd come back for you." Natasha nods along with his theory. Bruce leaves out the part where Sakaar loved and embraced the Hulk in a situation which would have been perfect for him. He may have been a glorified cage fighter, but the Other Guy was treated with respect; something he rarely encountered on Earth. He figures training and fighting would be a good way to get control of the way for the Hulk spoke of to Natasha.

"Now I could wish you goodnight and pretend I don't care and that could be easier except it's possible one or both of us will die in the coming fight, and I don't want the survivor to have regrets about missing _this_ window." Natasha swallows and watches his eyes. "Unless there is someone else."

Bruce frowns, utterly confused. "Someone else?"

"Brunette, beautiful, tattoos on the face," she prods gently.

"Oh," his mouth forms the word but he's not sure if he says it out loud. "Um, I don't remember much about her, except she helped us escape and try to save Asgard," Bruce looks a little guilty. "I'm not trying to defend him but I think she reminds him of you which is why he stayed close to her before Thor found us. She reminds me of you."

Bruce allows that sentiment to hang in the air for a moment, watching her eyes. He hates the doubt he sees there. He's a little torn over her jealously, bolstering his inner ego a smidge, not that he'd ever tell her that. His free hand reaches up to her jaw, cupping it. "Don't ever doubt how much I missed you." His thumb brushes the corner of her cheek bone. "Your eyes are the last thing I remember," he confesses. "I thought I would never get the chance to see you again."

"I've thought about it a lot too," Natasha admits.

"Yeah?" Bruce perks up. She nods and he realises she won't take the lead again, deferring to give him the chance he needs. "There was a point when I never wanted to come back. If I couldn't come home to you, I was ready to relinquish everything to the Other Guy," he admits. "I didn't want to do this without you, it was like this gaping hole inside of me was missing."

Natasha's other hand covers his one on hers.

"I'm sorry I never told you that I adore you too." They're not the exact words he wants to use, he's not sure she's ready to hear them yet, but he knows she'll understand what he's trying to say. Before he has the chance to say anything else, she's closing the short distance between them. Her nose grazes his as their lips meet softly in a gentle caress. Simple and chaste, it's a promise neither of them can bring themselves to utter. They've always communicated better through touch anyway.

"We rarely get a second chance in our lives," Natasha prompts as she stands and her hand falls into his to tug him after her. "Come to bed Bruce," she orders softly and he relinquishes to her.

Rising to follow barely managing to miss the corner of the coffee table, fumbling to stay upright he meets her only slightly mocking look. "You're still a dork," she smiles fondly.

"Do chicks still dig that?" He wonders bashfully, suddenly feeling lighter.

Her eyes flash quickly with a coy smirk. "Yeah." She leans in and pecks him on the cheek. "Welcome home Big Guy."


End file.
